Taking Away The Monster
by Kin-outcast1
Summary: Cal has been betrayed. And it will cost him everything. Post-Blackout.
1. Chapter 1

"Promise wants to take you to dinner, Cal," that was what Niko had told me last night, coming over to where I was sprawled on the battered couch and promptly shutting off the TV.

"Just me?" I asked suspiciously. "What is this, brother and sister bonding time? I don't think I'm ready for that, Cyrano."

"This was Promise's idea. She just wants to spend some time. Talk. Buy you artery-clogging grease at some fancy restaurant," he said, thumping my head with the handle of a duster and toeing our coffee table suggestively. (The coffee table probably had about … seven dust mites on it. Yes, my brother is a neat freak.) "Sound appealing?"

"Alright," I gave in. "If that's what the lady wants, it's what the lady wants. But I'm _not _singing Kumbaya and I'm _not _holding hands under the table."

It was agreed. Promise and I met at some insanely fancy restaurant, with her looking basically like the latest most expensive fashion trend and me, in comparison, looking basically like poodle shit on the bottom of somebody's shoe. At least I'd brushed my hair. To her credit, she didn't turn and run right back to her limo when she saw me, but instead smiled graciously and gestured to a table near the back of the posh room. She must've been very early … she already had some kind of champagne ordered and poured in two identical glasses.

I was actually supposed to be at work (I'd barely escaped Ishiah with my life once I told him I couldn't finish my shift, and considering all the time he's given me in the past). I'd stopped off at the apartment to do something with my clothes and something to my hair – which didn't turn out to be much of anything, as Nik was teaching some late class at the college and wasn't around to criticize me about my appearance. But honestly, why trade in perfectly good blue jeans for stiff dress pants that do murderous things to one's crotch? It doesn't add up.

"Good evening, Caliban," said Promise with a smile, sitting in the chair I pulled out for her.

"Hey, Promise," I said, sitting across from her. I'll pull out chairs, sure, but a gun-toting badass like me isn't going to be caught dead saying "good evening". She handed me my glass and asked softly, "Shall we toast? To Niko."

"Yeah … to Niko." I guess it was a pretty normal toast – we sort of shared Niko, the two of us did. But there was something strange about this whole atmosphere. She wasn't saying very much – not that you ever had any trouble getting Promise to shut up – but this was supposed to be her idea. She was hostess, therefore she made conversation, right?

I drank slowly, using the champagne as an excuse not to sit stammering about the weather. I was only planning to put it down when Promise spoke, but she just sat serenely and watched me for the longest time. Finally, when my throat was really starting to burn from the wine, she smiled and said, "I haven't seen you at all recently, Caliban. Since you recovered." (That was a sweet and unobtrusive way of saying, "since you discovered Niko was poisoning you with Nepenthe spider venom and got all your traumatic monster memories back".)

I put my glass down and nodded. "Yeah, I had a lot of work time to make up for at the bar. Ishiah's given me more days off than I can count."

She lifted her glass, and I followed, downing the rest of my champagne. It channeled its warm way into my belly, and I settled back, feeling a lot more relaxed. "So … how've you been?" I asked. A weak attempt on my part, but still an attempt.

"Just fine, Caliban. Just fine."

Now she was being repetitive. Something was wrong. I could almost smell it. So, like the sweet and unobtrusive person I am not, I said, "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Why do you ask?"

"You seem …" not agitated, quite. Just … "… weird?" Ouch. This is the first and last time Promise was ever taking me to dinner.

She laughed softly. "I assure you, nothing is wrong. I live a very peaceful life, Caliban, albeit a lonely one." Soft violet eyes stared off into the distance. "I don't ever miss my husband, you know, but I miss … his _presence_, if you understand. Being alone all the time … can be very …" the eyes met mine, strange and far-off. "… damaging."

Damn, was she going to confide in me? I didn't do well with things like that, with anyone other than Niko. I nodded, trying my best to look understanding. My hand had fallen asleep while she was talking and I gave it a few slaps against my chair.

"A week ago," Promise continued. "I asked Niko if he would come and live with me."

Wow. Unexpected. And just like that … it all made sense. The dinner, the arrangement. Niko had refused, as of course he would have, and now Promise would want me to talk to him. I suddenly felt sick. "I …"

"You can guess what he said. He said … 'I have to stay with Cal.'" She leaned forward, face intense. "I said nothing. But yet, I've been thinking … the Auphe are dead, Caliban. Can you not protect yourself? Can Niko not go out and live his own life?"

Now my legs were tingling. Was this nerves? I opened my mouth to say I would talk to him, I would try to work this out, but she cut me off again. "He can't," she said simply. "We both know it, Caliban. You are his first priority. You have always been first."

My head was swirling. I felt odd as hell and even sicker than before. I did not want to have this conversation.

Promise gave me a smile and said slowly, "But I'm tired of living alone."

"Promise –" I started, but hell, my tongue wasn't moving right. I felt like my whole body was falling asleep … I …

Holy shit.

My eyes flew to my empty champagne glass, and then to Promise's still, porcelain face. What had she done? "You … poisoned me," I said, breathing hard, moving my hand to my jacket to reach for a weapon, any weapon, but my hand wasn't obeying. My body was freaking out and Promise was just sitting there watching it happen.

"No," she laughed softly. "I didn't poison you. Just a drug. It won't even knock you out for too long. No, I want you to live. I want you to live through the hell I'm about to bring."

"What are you saying?" I gasped, horrified beyond measure. This was so not happening.

She stood up with a rustle of silk, and said with evident delight in her eyes, "I'm going to take Niko away from you." And with that one sentence, my world froze. "It's already mostly done. Now all I have to do is go to him, offer myself, and take him. He will be mine."

Already mostly done? What the hell? "Nik …"

"Do you realize how much I've needed your brother in the past?" she demanded suddenly, cold and glorious in front of me, her helpless and newly paralyzed victim. "So many times I've needed him, wanted to be near him, but he couldn't. Believe me, I know he wanted to, but he couldn't. Because every part of his being was held in the hand … of a monster. You, my dear little brother." She reached across the table and fondled my hair. "I realized that the only way he would ever truly be mine, was if he no longer had you. So I took you away from him. I killed you in his mind, so that right now, he doesn't even remember who you are."

"No …" I said, my voice thick and garbled. That was impossible. That was fucking _wrong. _"That's not … happening …"

"It's done, Caliban. I've just come from the college. Don't you think I have monster friends who can do what I ask? Your brother's mind has been played with before, but this time – it will be permanent." She paused, then said softly, "When your brother killed Cherish, he took my monster away from me. And now, _I'm _taking away the monster … that belongs to him."

Then a smile lit up her face, and she came around to my end of the table. "Come. Let's call him and see what I've done to him."

"No …" I was going to puke. I was going to kill her, except I couldn't move. I watched with hitching breath as Promise reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone, then hit Niko's number. She held the cool phone against my ear, and I could only sit there and listen as it rang … one, twice …

"You bitch," I hissed. Nik always picked up on the first ring, he was always ready – right on the spot. Another ring. And another –

And then he picked up. It was Niko's voice, saying, to my total and complete mind-wiping horror, _"Who is this?"_

My head swirled. Promise's smiling face broke into a thousand little blurry pieces as my eyes filled with tears. "Nik …" my voice came out thick and garbled, but he would hear, _he would understand. _"Nik, it's me …"

Silence.

_"I'm – sorry –"_

And then I cried out, a broken yell of fury and grief. Nik. _Bloody hell. Nik … _My head swirled. Promise disconnected the phone, then tipped my chair so that I fell onto my side on the floor. My vision was crumpling, becoming black, as her whisper caressed my ear – "I'll be waiting for you in front of the college with your brother. And I _promise _you … you will know how it feels … to be rejected …" and then, I was gone.

. . . .

Forever.

Later.

My eyes flew open.

I was on a couch in the back room with several members of the restaurant's staff standing around me. "We've called an ambulance," said a man that looked like the manager. "Try not to get excited. You passed out on the floor …"

Bloody hell. It didn't take long for the pieces of my memory to float back together again. And for the second time, I was punched in the gut with the horror of it. Promise. Promise had betrayed us. And then I thought – _"us"? Oh, please, whatever God is listening, please let there still be an "us"._

And then … I was so out of there. At first I fell, my body still heavy and disoriented, but I picked myself up and bolted out the door even as the staff tried to stop me. I was on the street and running like hell in less than a moment. And at this moment, I was just as fast as Niko.

Niko.

I tried to remember the last time I'd seen him, the last thing I'd said to him … it was when I'd left for the bar, earlier today. He'd been in the kitchen cleaning his sword. I'd said, "I'm going to the bar. And if Robin Goodfellow is there and he has feathers on him, I'm leaving the bar." Nik had rolled his eyes, said, "Good bye, little brother," then whacked the back of my head as I'd passed.

No. Please, no.

It was raining by the time I reached the college. I wanted to find him and I didn't want to find him. And I realized for the first time that my gun and knife were both gone. Promise had stripped me of my weapons. She'd known I'd come here right away … weaponless or not. She knew how much I loved my brother.

It still blew my mind that _all this time _she'd been looking at me and hating my guts … she'd been one hell of an actress, although I guess with hundreds of years' experience it was entirely possible.

I found Niko.

I found him standing in front of the college, just where Promise had said he'd be. He was standing with her, as rain fell softly around them. They were talking. Promise had her pale hand on his shoulder. Niko was looking at her, enraptured, but also confused. He never looked confused … always so sure, always in control. But at this moment, he looked lost. And I didn't damn it know if I could bring him back.

But this was _Nik, _confused expression or no, so I couldn't hold myself back. He _had _to know me. "Nik," I cried, stumbling toward him and seizing him by the front of his coat. Promise did not intercept me. She just took a few steps back and watched, serene as ever. And that scared the shit out of me.

Niko stepped away … _my brother, stepping away_. "I – don't –"

"It's Cal, Nik, it's _Cal. _Please, please know me. She messed with your head, this bitch, she messed with your head." I didn't let go. I clung on for dear life because I was just sinking so fast. I looked up and stared into gray eyes that registered _no recognition _and I wanted to curl up and die. It wasn't real, it wasn't happening. I said again in helpless disbelief … "It's Cal."

He shook his head. I'd freaked him out. He looked wary, scared. It was an expression I saw way too often on way too many people looking in my direction, but _never _on Niko. He shook his head harder. "Leave me alone."

Like hell I would. "Nik," I cried, shaking his coat so hard it was a wonder I didn't rip the lapels off. "Please." And then, just because I was so damn desperate, I turned to Promise and begged, _"Please!"_

"Come, Niko," she said, tipping her head to where her limo was parked down the street. "This man is disturbed. Come with me."

And then Niko shoved me away, and I fell unresisting to the wet pavement. Then I watched … watched as the world died, as Niko turned his back on me and walked off with the vampire who had killed my brother. I wanted to scream my guts out, but I couldn't move. The car started, and drove off into the rain, and I just watched … frozen, and completely alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N : Okay, so … I had originally intended this to be just a oneshot story, but obviously it wasn't meant to be. So I'm going to try for more … not exactly certain where this is going, but hang with me ;) And leave me some feedback when you're done, it'll encourage me to keep writing!**

**. . .**

Goodfellow.

I had to find Robin.

Wasn't entirely sure why, maybe because he was the only other person _to _find, and crap, that puck had to have some trick up his sleeve right? He would just flash that cocky leer and say he could fix everything, right? Damn, I really had to get a grip. I was still sprawled out on the pavement – a pitifully and psychologically-messed-up jerk sitting in a puddle. I had to get moving.

First step: Get the hell off your ass.

I eased myself to my feet, my jeans and jacket suddenly feeling very heavy as they weighed me down. I knew I should change … but I didn't want to go back to the apartment. Besides, I was going to Robin's, right? Right. I would catch a taxi. I would walk across the street and wave one down and get in and give the driver the address …

_But where's Niko?_

My mind kept nagging at me, not letting me forget him. I was always so aware of where he was, what he was doing, and now I was all but glancing over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't standing behind me. I just couldn't convince myself that right now, I was all by myself. There wasn't even a swear-word to fit that feeling. I was alone.

Sure, I'd been alone before. I'd been so damn far away so many damn times I couldn't even count … but there was always that knowledge that Nik was out there, thinking about me, looking for me. Even after the incident with the spiders, I'd known there was someone out there. I'd felt it. Now – the world was empty.

Which is why you find Robin, I reminded myself. So I stumbled to the curb and waved down a taxi cab, talking myself through the motions of getting inside and shutting the door and giving Robin's address. And then I just sat in the backseat, nausea coiling and lurching in my stomach at every bump, eyes squeezed shut. Robin would help me. He'd been around; he'd picked things up along the way – shit, hadn't he told me often enough? There was some way out of this mess, there always was.

_But where's Niko?_

. . . .

I puked all over Robin's robe. And yes, it was made of silk.

I'd been hammering on his door for a full fifteen minutes, praying the bastard was home for just this one night because if he wasn't I knew I would never, ever track him down. It was after I started screaming his name like a lunatic that the door finally flung open, revealing a blinding flash of light and a blinding flash of puck, as Robin looked coldly at me and demanded icily, "Yes, Caliban?"And then I let it all out. Literally.

Ignoring his shrill shrieks of _"Skata!" _I clamped my hand over my mouth and went running to his bathroom to soil his probably-marble-or-gold-encrusted toilet bowl. My damp clothes clung to me as I heaved, uncomfortably cold against my skin. Any other day I would've been thrilled as hell, puking aside, that I'd managed to so skillfully ruin one of Robin's billion dollar clothing articles. Right now … I didn't much care. All I could see was Niko's face – cold, repulsed. All I could hear were Niko's words – _"leave me alone". _All I could feel were Niko's hands – pushing me away.

After I'd finished and just knelt there for a few minutes, Robin finally reappeared, dressed in a new, unsoiled robe. I expected him to bawl me out, but by now he'd be a complete moron if he didn't know something was insanely wrong. And much as his attitude begs to differ, the puck is not a complete moron. He stood there a moment, arms crossed, watching me as I watched the toilet. Then he said, "Where's Niko?"

I might have thrown up again. I just braced myself against the floor and whispered hoarsely, "With Promise."

"Well, then, what the hell is wrong with you?"

I shivered, stood up, flushed the toilet, and faced him. "Robin –" I was breathing hard, my voice was hitching – oh, crap, was I going to cry in front of Goodfellow? "Robin, he's gone … Promise messed him up …" I didn't cry, but damn it, I wanted to kill something. "She has friends, she did something to his mind, he didn't remember who the hell I was …"

Robin was staring at me in disbelief. _"Promise?"_

Yeah, okay, _then _I puked. Luckily I was out of range of Robin's replacement robe, but I did manage to splatter it all over his shimmering tile floor. He backed away, muttering some appeal to Zeus – or at least, a part of Zeus.

This was going to be a long night for both of us.

Eventually the heaving died down, and although Robin didn't play nursemaid he did long-sufferingly hand me a wet cloth for my face. Then I toed off my ruined shoes, threw my jacket into the sink, and followed Robin into his kitchen. He motioned suggestively toward the garbage pail but I waved him away and sank into one of his kitchen chairs. "You need to fix him," I whispered.

He sighed and said patiently, "I'm flattered by your utter hero worship, but even_ I_ can't fix somebody when I don't know what's wrong with them. What's all this about Promise? Try to string together a few coherent sentences without – er, _ejecting_ anything."

I reached instinctively for my mala bracelet but didn't dare open my mouth to murmur the mantra. I was really going to have to get a grip. I couldn't lose my lunch every time I was reminded of Nik, because – hell, _everything _reminded me of Nik.

I took a deep breath, shut my eyes, and told the story. I didn't open up until I'd given Robin the last detail, and when I did all I could do was gape at the curious yet serene expression on his face. _"Does this not bother you?" _I exploded, tossing all my fish sticks and cartoons to the wind.

He noted my surge of emotion and put a few more feet between us just in case. "I must admit it did, for a few minutes. Now, I'm back to plotting some hideous form of revenge on you for gracing my home with your stomach fluids."

My mouth was half-open. Maybe he was a moron after all. Unless … "You _can_ fix him?"

He looked miffed. Yeah, _now _the hero worship was welcome. "Please. I am the master of hypnosis, Caliban. I have thousands more years experience than any friend a mere vampire can dig up."

It felt like the world lifted itself off my shoulders. I collapsed against the back of the chair and dropped my head back, saying softly, "Yes. Yes. Okay," this being not one of my most eloquent moments.

"But of course … in order to do anything we'll have to get a hold of Niko. And he'll have to be … relaxed." He trailed off, and for a moment I thought the bastard was indulging in some dirty imageries, until he finally announced, leaning back against his countertop. "This could be more difficult than I figured. What are we going to do with Promise?"

Promise.

I saw her moonlike, mocking violet eyes and could feel the familiar twist of murderous vengeance in my gut. "Promise," I whispered, mouth curling in a dark smile. "I'm going to kill her."

Goodfellow was not impressed. "Shouldn't we let Niko be the judge of that?"

"She's dangerous, Robin," I shot back, annoyed. "If Nik gets all saintly and forgiving on her, then she'll never stop hating me, and she'll always be on our backs."

When I looked back at him, Robin's face was more sober. "If this is the case, Niko would not risk it. He _will _be rid of her."

"Well then," I said, pushing myself abruptly out of my chair. "I'll just save him the trouble."

He raised an eyebrow and said in mock sympathy, "I'm so glad these happy thoughts of blood and violence have made you feel well again."

"I need weapons."

He nodded to the next room. "You know where they are."

As I picked out slick, double-bladed knives and nice big guns for blowing vampire brains out with, I heard Goodfellow from the kitchen – "One thing that puzzles me. Knowing you, how could Promise sanely put herself in jeopardy by letting you live?"

"She was taking revenge," I said back, running my thumb over the blade of a katana and feeling my heart ache. "But that's over now. She'll get smart and send some more 'friends' to my apartment. I can't go back there." Suddenly my spine went stiff as I bolted upright. Hot damn. Holy crap_._ Why had I been such a complete idiot? Promise wouldn't just send her friends to my apartment … Promise knew where I would go …

There was silence in the kitchen. Apparently I wasn't the only one entertaining these thoughts. "Robin?" I called, a gun clamped in one hand and a blade in the other. With these weapons, with this familiar alertness, I felt much more ready. "Robin." I rounded the corner and stepped back into the kitchen to find Goodfellow backed up near his fridge, sword in hand. Kin Wolves stood at the other end of the room, in a silent group, sporting both manmade weapons as well as the genetic ones on their fingers and in their mouths. And there were about … thirty of them.

Did I really think this was going to be easy?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N : I know, I know, how on earth did 30-some assassin Wolves find their way into Robin Goodfellow's apartment without getting seen/heard/smelled/sensed? It might've been more realistic, but where's the fun in that?**

**Anyway, this chapter is quite a bit longer than the last. Enjoy :)**

**. . .**

"_Wolves! _She sent _Wolves _to assassinate me! Drooling, half-witted, one-balled Wolves!" That was Goodfellow – yeah I know, surprise, surprise –who had the gall to be _offended _over the shrieking roar of steel and battle. I personally did not think thirty Wolves with ultra resistance to anything in the category of gut-ripping-wounds was very offending. In fact, I didn't know where the hell Promise had managed to dig up so much brawn in so little time. She had her own personal bodyguards, sure, but not this many – and I didn't recognize a single one.

"Shut up, Loman," I growled, slicing one Wolf across the ear with my knife as I shoved the barrel of my gun under the chin of another and fired. About half had morphed into true wolf form – at least as far as I could tell – the others were trapped about halfway between fur and skin, cursing and growling with strained, half-human vocal chords.

Alright. Way too many bad guys here. And not one of them had managed to die on us yet. "Robin!" I yelled, backed into his living room by about 2,000 pounds of pure muscle. "Do something!"

"In case you haven't noticed –" he retorted acidly, sword whipping about like a flag as it fended off weapons twice its size. The puck could fight, there was no arguing. I just didn't know if he could win.

Damn, this was going to be tough, just the two of us. We needed Niko and Promise's help here –those two could fight like –

_Shit._

That thought came too fast for me to stop it, targeted straight for my gut. And I actually stopped fighting for half a second – a whole damn half a second and Niko would ride my ass till doomsday if he'd been around to witness it. Because half a second may as well have been minutes. Suddenly I was on my back on the floor, knife gone, and gun lost to the snapping, slobbering jaws of a 300-pound mutt with fingers. And about the same second I reached into my waistband for another knife, he spat the gun out and went for my left hand. I screamed as pain spiraled up my arm into my shoulder, and I just _knew _he must've taken fingers with him. I plummeted my knife into the back of his neck, releasing a hot flow of blood, and dragged my ruined scarlet appendage from slack, twitching jaws. Then I fought. No time to nurse my wounds. Cursing with the pain, I managed to get another knife into my left hand and fought with that one too.

After a few minutes I risked a glance over at Robin, just in time to see him make a classic beheading with a sweep of his iron blade. There were bodies lying around him too – a good sign. I'd only killed one or two, but I'd put quite a few down for the count, even if they weren't dead. Now I was engaged in a one-on-one with a female wolf, a bizarre-looking woman with tufts of hair sprouting around round brown eyes and crooked, pointed incisors. I stuck a knife into her belly and then slammed her back against the wall. "How do you know the vampire?" I growled.

She answered in the way of razor-sharp nails clawing at my eyes, and I batted her off, turning once to ward off another Wolf. "Where did she find you?"I whirled back on her and yelled in her face, pressing my blade against her cheek.

"The Elysium," she chortled raggedly. "The Nottinger woman … the Elysium …"

I stared at her. "What the hell is the Elys–" I was interrupted by a lamp that came soaring through the air to crash against my skull. The she-wolf bolted as I collapsed onto the floor in a rain of broken glass. I opened my eyes just in time to see a flash of copper teeth and bloody gums – and then Goodfellow's sword blade plummeting through the back of the throat.

The Wolf fell over me with a mighty whuff of flesh-scented breath and bled all over my clothes. I shoved him off of me and glanced around. There were bodies, but not enough. "Where are the others?" I asked.

"Ran for it," said Robin, shoving his sword irritably into one prostrate, groaning Wolf's back. Then he whipped out his blade, whirled on me, and thumped it sharply against my chest. "Caliban Leandros, you are paying for every single item in these two rooms that so much as _smells _of Wolf blood."

"Me? What the hell did I do?"

"Too much, Caliban. Far too much. Let's take it from the top – the incident with the robe. No, actually, let's take it from the _very_ top – the incident with the _fork," _he seethed, flashing me a look of molten contempt.

I brushed past him. "Well, crap, Loman, I was an amnesia victim – what can I say?"

"I had to dispose of 37 mummified cats!"

"Save it. We have to get to Promise's," I said.

He stopped whining and eyed my soggy red appearance.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Skata, Cal."

"Well I know you're not going to lend me any of _your _clothes," I said, hastily throwing in, "not that I'd wear them."

He raised his eyebrow but fortunately failed to comment. "At least bandage your hand. And put your jacket on – it'll hide some of the blood."

I used his bathroom to swiftly treat and bandage my hand, or most of it – as I needed mobility in order to fight – and shrugged into my jacket. Then I restocked up on weapons – sticking guns and knives just about wherever I could fit them as Goodfellow changed in the other room and loudly grieved the untimely passing of his favorite lamp.

"And I expect you'll want me to pay the taxi driver as well?" he asked caustically, strutting back into the room in a new set of dazzling clothes and his sword hanging at his waist.

I walked up to him, laid a hand on his arm and said with dark mischief, "Robin, you know I'd rather die than make you do something like that."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at my hand on his arm. I waited patiently until realization hit him, and gave him only about half a second to sputter indignantly before it was too late. I gated, ripping a hole through Robin's living room and into Promise's.

I could smell her perfume before I could feel her floor underneath my feet. And it was dark. Great. I'd sort of been privately hoping Nik and Promise had enjoyed a late, long dinner.

Goodfellow was not too far from heaving himself now, and I'll bet he would have – intentionally, all over my shoes, just to spite me – but that would be running the risk of ruining his own clothes, a concept which was epically beyond him. However, it was not beyond him to be so furious as to try and decapitate me with his sword. "Hey,"I hissed, ducking. _"Shut up."_

Unfortunately, Robin wasn't in a very obliging mood. His sword came at me again, and this time I had to block it with my knife, causing a reverberating clash of steel to rip through the silence. We froze, glaring at each other, as a door opened somewhere down the hall.

I pulled a Glock from my belt and, knife clamped in my other hand, silently moved to the edge of the room and looked down the hall. My head was throbbing with the aftermath of the gate, and I could feel hot trickles of blood leaving my ears and nose, but at the moment I was just focused on Promise.

We both saw each other at the same time, only my gun was already out and waiting. Promise had nothing. She had only the cool ripple of silk and strings of pearls that were the same smooth ivory of her skin. She was beautiful, and for a moment I could feel Niko's love for her as if it were my own. And damn, how he loved her. I couldn't kill her. I just couldn't.

But that didn't mean I wasn't pissed as hell. "Promise," I acknowledged her, mouth curling into some distorted smile.

"Cal," she said softly, that mildly perturbed look in her eyes. "I didn't expect you."

I stepped closer, set the cold gun barrel against her white forehead, and whispered, "Did you really think you were going to get away from me?"

And then I saw the fear – a fast flicker of it in her eyes, as she clenched her hands into fists. "It's too late, Caliban."

"No, it isn't. There are ways," I said, tilting my head in Robin's direction.

Promise caught sight of him and her voice became cold and clipped, "Goodfellow, you ignorant fool. You can do _nothing." _

She gave me such a damn fright I almost did kill her, but then I heard a voice from down the hall, calling, "Promise?"

"Robin, take over here," I said, and only removed the gun when the cold steel of Robin's sword was resting across Promise's throat. Then I was gone, down the dark hall and turning the corner into Promise's lavish bedroom. It wasn't smart, there were better tactics, yada yada, he was my damn brother and I had to see him.

He was standing in front of the bed, shirtless, eyes widening when I came into view. For one pathetic moment I thought he recognized me, and in a sense I was right … but in his mind, I was just a mindless lunatic who had accosted him earlier that night.

"_You," _he whispered, icy and contemptuous. "Where is Promise?"

He was freezing my blood. I'd mentally geared myself up for this. I'd been completely and totally ready – and yet I wasn't. I should've been barking orders with my gun up and aimed, but all I could do was stand there and wait like an idiot for him to just wake up. And I wasn't crazy as hell about pointing a gun at him either. "Nik," I said, crumbling under his gaze, feeling grief and fury but mostly just disbelief. "Really?"

He had his katana in hand in a less than a second and was face to face with me. "Where. Is. Promise."

"She's still here," I said, flinching as he looked at me, because hell, he was supposed to be remembering now! It wasn't supposed to matter who had hypnotized him … when Niko looked at me he was supposed to damn it know.

No such luck.

He grabbed me by the coat and slammed me against the wall, which wreaked hellish havoc on my head. For a moment the room went black, and the next thing I knew his sword was pressed against my throat. "What are you doing in her home? What do you want with her?"

Well, this certainly was not supposed to be happening. Why the hell did I let him so close with the damn sword?

And then Robin yelled "CAL?" from the next room, which distracted Niko long enough for me to get my knife in between me and his katana, but not long enough for me to avoid getting slashed messily across the arm. I ground my teeth against the pain and fought him.

Meanwhile I was trying desperately to get my thoughts together. I'd thought Niko had forgotten everything – how then did he still know how to fight?

Speaking of, things were not going too well. I'd lost my gun, all my reflexes were a mess, and my left arm was practically in tatters. For a minute I thought he was just going to kill me and that would be that … but then Promise's voice called out from the next room, _"Niko!"_

And he was gone. Disappeared down the hall into the next room like I didn't even exist. And I don't much like being ignored. I reached the living room just in time to see Niko and Robin have at it, and Promise make a run for it past me, calling for her bodyguards who were mostly likely posted somewhere outside her apartment.

I chased her down the hall, lunged for her and tackled her to the ground. Not very gentlemanly of me, but I'd grieve over that later. She tried to fight me, baring her fangs in the darkness and looking every bit the evil vampire she'd always denied being, but I was the one with the weapon. In a minute I had her pressed against the floor, my knife rested against her throat. "Why?" I demanded. I actually sounded more regretful than pissed, because – hell, I'd liked Promise. "All this time. Why?"

I expected a cool, composed reply, but tonight was just turning out to be full of surprises. She was furious and hysterical and crying out in a ripped voice, "I was lonely!_ I am tired of living alone!"_ This was a Promise I didn't know, and I'm not sorry to say I didn't feel a twinge of pity for her.

"I would destroy you now, Promise," I said.

"Like I've destroyed you?" she croaked, violet eyes daring me to slice her throat.

I ignored her, and continued, "But I'm going to let Niko do it." Then I rose to my feet and ran back toward the other room. I'd been hoping we could get out of here without my having to make a second gate, but to hell with that plan – we had to leave. And I had to think of a location very, very quickly.

I heard the door to Promise's apartment bang open and the pounding of footsteps flow down the hall. Promise's Wolves. I was out of here.

But Goodfellow and Niko were still fighting, and I'd be damned if I moved within range of those swords. So I yanked a second gun from my belt and screamed, _"Drop your sword or I'll shoot her!" _

Nik's head swung around. He didn't drop his sword, but Robin swiftly disarmed him, so it was a win-win situation. Taking advantage of the second-long standstill, I lunged for them, grabbed Robin's arm and Niko's shoulder and made a gate around us, and we were gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, so maybe a second gate wasn't the best idea in the world. Robin apparently lost all interest in keeping Niko under control, let down his sword, and started puking (slipping in caustic Goodfellow-esque obscenities between heaves), while Niko turned literally green and collapsed onto his knees. As for me, I was bleeding all over myself, my head was being ripped apart by mind-wiping pain, and my pulse had escalated to a rate no amount of caffeine could produce. I tried to think through it anyway, fumbled for my gun, hands visibly shaking, and held the quivering barrel against Niko's head. I didn't want to, it made me feel even sicker just to do it, but it was the only way. "Robin. Tie him up," I said, gritting my teeth against this triggered headache from hell. When the first time hurts and the third time kills you, the second time isn't all that fun.

Robin's head swung around. He didn't look all that damn good, and that's being nice. "You did it," he rasped, eyes narrowing venomously. "Again!"

"Well you didn't have to pay for any taxi cab," I said wickedly, unable to resist.

"I hate you," he said with a reverent passion, stumbling to his feet like a drunkard. "Once we get Niko back, I am moving to L.A. so that I can be just as far away from you as possible."

Nik had been silent all this time, kneeling on the floor with eyes glassy but aware of my gun against his skull. But at the words "once we get Niko back", those eyes sparked with confusion and he glanced warily up at us. No words, though.

Damn, this was killing me.

"That's great, Loman," I said, trying to mop my face on my sleeve and cursing when it only smeared. "Get some restraints or duct tape or something, will ya?"

"Where are we anyway?"

"Rafferty's," I answered, glancing around. Apparently we'd landed in his hallway. "It was the first place I could think of."

Goodfellow flashed that perfected puckish superiority that immediately made me feel like some kind of bug. "Oh, I applaud your unparalleled genius. Promise will _never _think to look for us here."

"Well, if you ever get your ass moving with the tape, maybe we'll be out of here before something like that happens!"

"You think duct tape is going to hold _him_?" Goodfellow asked, incredulous.

"Will you quit being so damn difficult? It won't be for long!"

He gave me a murderous look, and left, muttering things under his breath that I really had no desire to hear. I stood shaking and waiting for my heart rate to slow, my gun clamped in one hand as I looked down at Niko, who was still on his knees. It was all so confusing … I just didn't know about him. He could still fight, and he could do it well, but he wasn't the same. I'd been taking a wild chance back at Promise's, trying to distract him into being disarmed … and it had worked. But it shouldn't have.

But that didn't matter … because Robin would work with him. Just a few minutes. Just a few minutes and Nik would be back.

I pushed Promise's nagging voice _"you can do _nothing" to the back of my mind.

"Stand up," I said, backing away from Niko, but keeping the gun trained on him. He rose to his feet, gray eyes simmering with hatred. Wow, this night was turning out to be a blast – I felt so damn loveable. I had three people who I liked and could trust in my pathetic little joke of a social life. In the past few hours two of them had tried to kill me, and the other – well, he'd tried to kill me too, but technically all he wanted to do was move to the other end of the country to get away from me. Happy days.

"It wasn't Promise you wanted. It was me," he said. The intensity of his stare not lessening for a second, and I just stared at my gun and didn't answer, because I couldn't look into those eyes.

Robin reappeared then with half a roll of duct tape and bound Niko's wrists behind his back – using a lot more tape than was necessary. "And now what are we going to do with him, wiseass?"

I looked up and met Niko's eyes, and even if he didn't know me, I knew him, and I knew the look I saw there. He was docile enough at this moment, but there was no way he was going down without a fight. Super-ninja was pissed. "Hold on," I said, handing Robin my gun. "Keep that on him and sit him down in there," I jerked my head toward the living room.

"What are you doing?"

"Just go," I snapped, turning and walking down the hall into Rafferty's bathroom. I knew I was being pretty shitty to Goodfellow, who, in all honesty, did not have to be here helping me. Hell. I'd apologize to him after I put my life back together. Or … to be technical here … after _Robin _put my life back together. Man, I really was shitty.

First I grabbed a hand towel and mopped the blood from my face, then I threw open the medicine cabinets and started rummaging around through boxes and bottles and bandages and injections and all sorts of medical supplies that belonged to Rafferty before he – er, long story. The drugs were probably mostly expired, but that didn't matter. I just needed something to relax Nik, something to calm him down. I finally found a bottle of Valium, which wasn't as strong as I'd like, but hell, I'd give him three.

Palming the pills, I left the bathroom and found the kitchen. Then I opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of soda – which was just about the only thing in there – and dumped the pills in. I didn't know how long that soda had been sitting in there, but soda didn't really get old, right?

I found Niko sitting in the living room with Robin hovering over him, gun in hand. I passed the puck and shoved the soda in my brother's face. "Drink this. All of it."

He stared at it in distaste. "I will not."

Unbelievable. Niko was still a frigging vegan! He forgets his only brother he's looked after since birth, but the Almighty Cabbage, that he remembers. Needless to say, I was pissed, and without further ado I seized his braid and dumped the soda down his throat.

"Good job, Caliban," said Robin acidly, shoving the gun into my hands as he passed me. "Now, if you'll excuse me." He stalked into the bathroom, slammed the door behind him, and started to retch loudly.

Meanwhile I just stood hating my gun and watching Niko, who was sitting rigidly with an unbreakable will and watching me back. After a moment of silence, he stated coldly, "I hope you don't think I'm frightened of that gun in your hand. I don't know who the hell you are, but I'm not a moron. You wouldn't shoot me."

Well, crap. It was time to put on my best poker face and hope like hell that this Nik was enough of a stranger that he wouldn't see right through it. "I'll shoot you," I said. "Just nowhere lethal. Easy enough."

One word like a sliver of ice. My brother was good like that_. "Why."_

Because I love the hell out of you and if you died I'd most likely either bury myself alive or go on a murder rampage across the 7 continents killing every living thing in my path. Hm. Well, it would shut him up, anyway. "Why don't you think about it for a while, and let me know when you come up with something," I said deadpan over my gun.

"You make a wrong move, I'll kill you."

"Okay, you do that."

After a short while, I saw his muscles begin to visibly relax. Maybe I should've taken some of that Valium for myself. To relax would be nice, but it wasn't a luxury I could afford right now. I had to take care of us if Promise or her Wolves happened to drop in for a visit. I needed to be alert –

And damn it, when was Goodfellow coming out of there? I just wanted this nightmare to be over. I needed Niko back.

I just wanted it over.

When Robin finally emerged from the bathroom he looked pale and irritable and had drops of water in his hair and dotting his shirt. He stepped into the living room and surveyed us as if he still couldn't believe that he was here.

"Robin?" I prompted him.

He sighed, crossed the room, and sat facing Niko on another couch. "Cal," he said, his voice suddenly calm and patient. "Put down your gun."

I hesitated.

"He needs to be relaxed."

Suddenly understanding seemed to dawn in Nik's eyes. "Hypnosis?" his jaw set angrily as he gave Robin one of his killer stares. "What kind of a monster are you?"

Patient, calm, sure, but now he was offended. "I am a _puck_, which you knew, and which you will know again in several minutes. Just concentrate on my voice and forget everything else."

He laughed incredulously without smiling as rock-hard eyes surveyed me. "You –"

"Niko!" Robin commanded. "Look at me!"

Hypnosis setting in already? Maybe. Goodfellow being an unyielding force of terror and command? Probably not. But for whatever reason, Niko's head turned and he looked Robin in the eyes. And then Goodfellow started talking … and Nik started to fade.

I almost felt like _I _was fading. That's how messed up I was – falling victim to someone _else's _hypnosis. Man. That was right out of a cheesy 40's comedy.

When Robin finally stopped speaking, there was a glaze over Niko's eyes. He was completely relaxed, muscles slack, head slightly lolled to one side. And, ungrateful bastard that I am, that was even more terrifying than before. Because even when my brother was meditating his ass off in some quiet, tranquil corner – he was always alert. He never looked like _this. _I wanted to tell Robin to hurry up, but I was afraid my voice would break the spell.

"Niko," Robin said in a low voice. "Can you hear me?" None of that heavy enunciation like you see in the movies – Goodfellow spoke as if to a normal person, or maybe a normal person hard of hearing.

And Nik answered softly, "Yes." His eyes were expressionless.

And suddenly I was tired. I sank to my knees on the floor in front of Nik and watched him, breath frozen in my chest.

"Tell me your name," Robin said.

"Niko Leandros."

Was that a good sign? I glanced over at Robin but his attention was focused on Nik.

"Tell me a memory."

There was a pause, and then Nik started speaking in a voice so unguarded and tentative I felt immediately like we should not be doing this. Nik never spoke like this to anyone but me. He would whip my traitorous ass if he knew what I was letting Robin do to him. "Hands, slow and white and gentle, and a dark room full of whispers, and … pearls."

I fisted my hands against the floor. Yeah, yeah, alright, got any more memories?

"Tell me what happened earlier tonight. You were at the college."

"I was at the college," Nik picked up from there, his eyes focused on something so distant it couldn't have been in this world. At least he was calm. The last time Robin had tried hypnosis on somebody it had been me and I'd turned into some kind of raving animal. "I felt confused, for a while. I don't know why. And then it ended, and Promise came to pick me up."

Robin flashed me a quick look, and then continued steadily. "Tell me another memory, before Promise."

There was no emotion in his eyes, but when he spoke, I was shocked by the sorrow that filled it. "Flames," he whispered. "And smoke, and broken glass. And I sat there for so long and I waited, and grieved."

"Why were you grieving?" Robin prompted softly.

"I think … someone I loved had just left me."

"Who?"

Silence. My throat was tight. Just say my name, Nik, say my name.

"My mother died that night," he said, but his voice sounded faulty – as if he weren't sure of his answer.

"Who else did you grieve for?"

"No one else."

A shiver crawled up my back. Shit. I turned to Robin and made desperate motions with my hands for him to hurry it up and make this work, but he didn't even grace me with a response – just continued his steady interrogation. "What happened after you waited?"

"I left. I was being chased. I was never in one place for too long, and I was always training. I had to be ready."

"What was chasing you?"

Silence. Empty eyes.

"What was chasing you, Niko?" Robin's voice was getting more persistent. "You were on the run. Who were you with?"

Another cursed pause as he looked for words that weren't there. "I was alone."

Robin was losing it. "No!" he snapped. "Niko, your brother. Tell me about your brother. _Tell me about Cal Leandros."_

This response was not delayed – it was quick, immediate, and mechanical – "I do not know Cal Leandros."

A punch in the gut, and all my breath went out of me. I let my head drop against his knee and thought _no, no, no._ "Nik," I ground out. Screw silence. He would know my voice. "Nik, come on." I shut my eyes and I did pray.

Nik's voice was strained, panicked – "I do not know …"

_"Robin!"_

"Shut up, Cal. Niko. Stop thinking. You will listen to my voice and wake up now. Niko …" he continued to work, slowly and gently waking up my brother as I staggered to my feet and backed away. I didn't want him to wake up – I didn't want Promise's lover on the couch, I wanted my brother, damn it! Why wasn't this working?

Robin woke him up, but only for about half a second. As soon as the haze lifted, Robin punched him hard in the jaw, rocketing his head backwards so that he slumped unconscious on the cushion.

_"Skata," _Robin whispered, sitting there a moment as heavy silence filled the room. When he rose to his feet and turned to face me, he looked solemn. "Caliban, I don't know what to do. I can't lift this. It's as if someone has simply ripped you out of his memory."

I stared straight ahead, my breath coming out thick and clumsy.

"Cal."

I remembered all those years after I came back from Tumulus. Dark and terrifying and a mess, and yet somehow there was good in them. Because Nik and I were together. I fell asleep every night with Nik's shadow over me, fought in battle with him beside me, walked with him watching my back, hid with his body blocking mine. I could remember having my ass kicked for leaving the door to our motel room unlocked. I remembered sitting in the passenger's seat and attempting to change Nik's radio station only to be flipped over his shoulder and thrown into the back. I remembered, and he didn't.

_"I was alone."_

"Cal."

There was nothing for me to say. So I left. I ran out of the room and down the hallway toward the front door. A cool wind blasted my face after I pulled it open, and I took a deep, hitching breath of it and stumbled into Rafferty's front yard. I would kill the son of a bitch who did this. I would kill Promise – because by this time I had no forgiveness in me. But I had to hold it together, like Niko. If my brother could suck it up and deal when I came back without any memories, I could do the same. Except now I knew exactly what he'd felt, all that time. I'd have to tell him that …

The dark outside became a blur, and I dropped onto my knees in the wet grass, wishing with all my damn heart that I could just sit out here, forget everything, and wait – and in a little while Niko would find me, and the world would be right again.


	5. Chapter 5

So, just for the pure hell of it, I did wait. Not for Niko, really – even I wasn't that damn pathetic. I waited for some kind of solution to hit me, hard, so that I could finally get my ass moving and _act, _and so there would still be a chance for my brother.

It was Promise. Promise, wife of quite a few wealthy bastards, who waltzed into our lives just a few years ago, after Nik and I had lived our entire lives together, suffered all levels of hell together, and she just decided to take him away from me. Her reason? She was lonely. Which was really just a load of bull, because that vampire didn't know lonely, not one damn bit.

When Goodfellow came outside I was sitting in the pouring rain. Again. Okay, so maybe I was that damn pathetic. I wasn't even conscious enough to know when the hell I was getting wet.

"Cal," Robin said, sounding tired and a whiny as he glanced up at the clogged black sky. "This is not helping anything."

Well, that was fairly obvious. I would've cracked a joke but my mouth was sort of fused shut. You know, trauma and all that. Slowly I pushed myself up on cramped legs and followed Robin into Rafferty's house. Which reminded me I didn't have much time. Promise would think of this place, she'd be here soon. I had to do something, fast. It was only when I was inside, dripping rainwater all over the floor and dabbing at my bloody arm with a rag when it slipped out so fast the thought didn't even have time to cross my mind. "Elysium!" I glanced over at Robin with wild eyes. Yeah, like that didn't make me look one fry short of a Happy Meal or anything.

"Holy Bacchus," Robin cried, horrified. "I didn't think it was this bad."

"No, Elysium," I said, a slow dribble of memory filtering through my brain. The female wolf, hissing through a mouth full of misshapen teeth, _"The Nottinger woman … the Elysium …"_

"What about it?" asked Robin, eying me warily.

"Is it a place … somewhere Promise might have gone …?"

"Promise did not go to Elysium, Caliban. You are delusional," he said, promptly injecting my wounded arm with something before continuing to rummage around in a medicine cabinet. "Do you even know what Elysium is? It's a paradise set aside for god-like figures and heroes, filled with prancing half-human animals with absolutely no clothes on and similarly dressed virgins strumming harps …"

"Loman, I was practically fed Greek mythology for breakfast, lunch, and dinner of my entire adolescent life. I know what Elysium is. I mean like an actual place – maybe a bar, somewhere Promise might have recruited Wolves."

"Your adolescent life, ignorant suckling, has barely begun," Robin scoffed. "And yes, there is a bar with that name, but I can't even imagine Promise going regularly to that place. It bears absolutely no resemblance to the fabled Elysian fields, I can assure you."

"The Wolf told me that's where she found them. Recruited them," I said, forgetting stitches and slapping a few bandages on my sword cut. It was hardly sanitary and Niko would despise my sloppy handiwork, but we didn't have time for any heavy clean-up. "Maybe that's where her friend is – the one who did this to Nik."

"Well, it's a lead, anyway," said Robin, looking slightly more pensive than before. "And about Promise's friend … I've been thinking about it –"

"What. What is it?"

"A riddler. I'm almost positive it's a riddler."

"A riddler?" I asked, tossing away the blood-soaked rag. "What the hell is a riddler?"

"Having been fed Greek mythology for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, you should certainly know this," Goodfellow asked, cocking an eyebrow. "It's more commonly known among as the 'sphinx'."

I gaped at him. "Holy shit, a_ sphinx_ did this to my brother? Complete with lion body and frigging eagle wings?"

"No wings. Technically sphinxes are only lions with the faces of women. They're such hideous oddities that the majority their race have lived and died in hiding. Underground caverns, abandoned subway stations, wherever they could find refuge, they took it. Legend says that if ever they were to go out of hiding, they'd dress in heavy cloaks to hide their bodies and act as old women, which would account, to some degree, for their odd, bent position. They're not exactly pleasant to look upon."

"But how did a sphinx hypnotize Nik? I thought they just sat around and … well … told riddles."

That remark thoroughly disgusted Goodfellow. "No," he spat out. "They riddle the _mind._ Hypnosis stronger than anything anyone can accomplish … unfortunately. If they have a view of your eyes for long enough they can speak to your mind from however far away, and you will be at their mercy. Promise must've tracked one down, paid it a tidy enough sum, and told it where to find Niko."

I absorbed this for a minute. "So you don't think there would be a sphinx hanging around in some bar?"

"Most likely not," said Robin. "But Promise has connections there, obviously. They might give us a lead. The real question is – how are we going to go poking around with an amnesia-stricken ninja breathing down our necks? And where will we hide him?"

"I don't know, I'm trying to think," I said, toweling off my hair.

"If only we could take him to your apartment … it might help him remember."

"Robin," I said. "If Niko remembers the _apartment _and not _me, _I don't even want him back." More bullshit. If only it were that easy.

"Does Rafferty have …?" I asked.

"I've scoured the property. No means of transportation in the garage or under the kitchen sink."

"Shit."

Robin then gave a martyred sigh and climbed to his feet. "I'll go hotwire a car," he said with mock reluctance. "Just add it to my unending list of good deeds. You may grovel at my feet later."

I decided not to comment on that; my finger said it all. He flipped me back one and then disappeared into the rain.

I did owe that puck. And hell, if I ever happened to stumble upon some massive fortune, I might even pay him for that stupid lamp of his I didn't break.

A sphinx. Damn it.

I cleaned up, shoving the medicines back into the kit, and making sure I wasn't bleeding horribly through the bandages. Then I returned to Rafferty's living room. Which was empty.

And once again, I said the word most likely to fit my emotional needs –

_"Shit."_

Niko was gone. And the duct tape that had previously bound his wrists was actually lying in a neat and unwrinkled sphere on the couch. How he managed that, I'll never know. Which wasn't even very important. I'd lost Nik. This was very, very bad.

I tore my gun from inside my coat and thundered through the house, yelling his name, fully expecting to impale myself on his waiting katana blade. When I found nothing, and remained un-impaled, I returned to the living room only to find to my utter stupidity that the window was open. "Niko, damn you," I growled, sitting on the wet windowsill and sliding out into the stormy darkness I'd just come out of.

Blinking in the rain, I could see the huge fence that surrounded Rafferty's backyard, and the woods that surrounded his house. And when I looked at the line of dark trees, I knew Nik was in there. So what the hell else could I do?

"Come out, you bastard," I said, entering the woods, crunching through fallen leaves, gun in one hand and knife in the other. It was dark out, and freezing, and I couldn't hear a thing over the roil of thunder and the chattering of my own teeth. Oh, yeah, and there was no movement. All in all, there didn't seem to be evidence of any living creatures for possibly miles around. But that meant nothing. Nik could've been standing behind me for all I knew.

Not a nice thought. I whirled around only to see more trees and the back of Rafferty's house. Where was Goodfellow when you needed him?

I was getting desperate. I had to up the stakes. "Come out," I called, gripping my knife tighter. "Or I'll forget you and find Promise instead! And I'll kill her … _slowly."_

"A pleasant idea," said Nik, as cold steel whispered behind my ear and down the back of my neck. He'd come up behind me without making a damn sound, and my back was turned. "In fact, I don't think anything sounds more appealing at the moment."

This could've been him shitting me. This could've been him filled with the ravenous desire to teach me a wildly humiliating and probably painful lesson after I'd done something particularly moronic. Well, it would still be painful, but this time it wasn't a lesson. This time he was going to kill me. And if that wasn't some hellish, thrice-accursed monstrosity of a thought for me to wrap my mind around, nothing was.

Slowly, I turned around, letting his sword drag lightly around my throat until it rested under my chin. He faced me, tall and unyielding, rainwater running through his hair and soaking his disheveled braid. "Drop your weapons," he commanded.

I didn't move. "Nik," I said, reasonably, as if I could use logic to straighten this out.

He stepped closer, pressed his sword hard against my neck. "_Drop your weapons." _

"Niko Leandros of the Vayash Clan," I continued, weapons still clamped in hands. I watched his eyes narrow suspiciously, and continued to talk – praying he wouldn't just screw slow, painful murder and decapitate me on the spot. "You were born to Sophia Leandros, gypsy deserter and fortune-telling whore who died in a fire that burned down your trailer –"

"Is this supposed to make me spare your life? I was under hypnosis for God knows how long. You could know anything about me."

"I didn't have you hypnotized so I could find out who your damn mom was, Niko. She was my mom too," I snapped through gritted teeth, fury rising when his expression showed only cold contempt. "DAMN IT! Can't you fucking look at me and _know?"_

"I am fucking going to slice your face off," he replied, swinging his sword in a heavy arc toward my head. I barely managed to block it with my knife, sending a ripple of electric pain up my arm, and then promptly fell backwards over his leg that was waiting to trip me. His sword slashed at me again and my knife skittered away.

Then his sword came down again and my gun went off.

The bullet hit him, and I was the one who screamed, grinding my teeth in fury as blood blossomed on his sword arm and started to flow down to his fingers. Fingers that were still firmly wrapped around his katana hilt. Of course it was never that easy with Nik.

I rolled to the side when the sword hit the ground, blocked it with my gun when it came down again, and made a wild reach for my knife. Then the fight was over in minutes – with the steel of our weapons mashed against each other and my gun held to his head once again. "I'm sorry," I gasped. "God, I'm sorry."

Then the world grew brighter. Headlights. "Robin!" I yelled, not daring to turn and look. In this light I could see Nik's face clearer – still cold, still hostile, but now there was another emotion. Almost like it had suddenly occurred to him that I might be telling the truth. One thing was certain – at this moment I definitely did not look like I was lying.

And then Robin appeared behind him. Nik's face drained of expression, his hold on his katana melted, and he slumped, unconscious, into me. I dropped my weapons and caught him, feeling his hot blood immediately soak my ice-cold clothes. "Nik," I growled, fisting his braid and yanking on it, furious with myself and with him and with just everything in general.

"Come on, Cal, let's get him into the car," said Robin, whisking Niko out of my arms and over his shoulder.

"He's wounded, Robin," I said, running after him toward stolen car which stood a short ways away, motor running, headlights on. He ignored me. "Hey. Loman. We have to heal him first."

He pulled open the back car door and let Niko flop into the backseat.

I grabbed his coat, whipped him around, and yelled, "Robin!"

"Get into the car," he said, not intimidated. "Promise could be here at any time. She's not going to play cat-and-mouse with us anymore, and you are in no condition to fight an entire army of rabid Wolves. I know places we can stay. We'll take Niko there and – _Caliban –"_

I left around mid-speech, headed back for Rafferty's house with Robin damning my departing back to some Greek place that definitely was not Elysium. I staggered in the front door, fumbled around for the first-aid kit and finally just seized the whole bulk of it. I needed everything for Nik. "Don't blow a fuse, I'm coming," I yelled, lugging it back out to Goodfellow's hotwired car.

I climbed in the backseat, and Robin slid behind the wheel.

"Your brother was ever so much more courteous in these types of situations," he groused, and drove us away.

. . . .

When Nik's wound was treated and tightly bound, and I'd injected him with something to numb the pain and something to keep him sleeping, I left him lying on the bench seat and climbed up front with Robin. "Drop me off at the Elysium," I ordered.

Robin looked at me like I was insane. "Drop _you _off at the Elysium? Like _that?_" He wide-eyed my ripped, splattered clothes, bandaged arm, and hands stained scarlet right up my fingernails with Niko's blood. There was probably more to add to that – things along the line of an anemically pale complexion and bulbous bloodshot eyes – but when he saw worn-out, I saw freaky-as-hell. Right now I did not look like the type of guy you wanted to hang out with.

"I'm pissed, Robin. I'm pissed as hell and I want some action," I said. "Take Nik to whatever place you had in mind. The smaller and crummier the better. Give me the address, and I'll find you when I'm finished."

"Finished doing _what? _ Acting as volunteer soup bone for Promise's half-drunk and hungry Wolf goons?"

"I'm going to find that riddler, Robin," I said simply, watching the familiar gray and slummy parts of New York fly by my window. "I'll talk to whoever knows. And once I find out where this thing is, I'll track it down and make it do what I want. I'll use threats, bribery, whatever works. And then I'll kill it."

Robin ranted. Yeah, he's good at that – have you noticed? "Just like that? No planning? No emotional work-outs through meditation? No babysitter to make sure you don't accidentally eat an informant? And I hope you realize Promise could very easily have told them about you. You know, the brother-in-law no one really wants around? They'll smell the Auphe in you the moment you walk through those doors."

"And they'll fear me."

"Oh, beg pardon, did I say 'walk'? Perhaps 'limp' is a more fitting word. Or, even better – 'collapse'. Yes, you'll truly be a terrifying sight to behold."

"I'm Auphe, Loman," I said. "I can be terrifying."

To my credit, that shut him up. Or maybe it wasn't to my credit. In fact, that could very easily be insulting to someone with my grade-A personality. It was a good thing I wasn't easily offended. "Take care of Niko until I get back," I said.

"Take care of yourself, Caliban, or _Niko_ will take care of _me_ when he finds out what I let you do," he grumbled, slapping a few knives into my hands. "Here – you'll need more weapons."

Ten minutes and he'd located the bar, tucked away in one of those unmentionable streets where humans feared to tread. Hell, I wasn't usually very keen on treading them myself, especially one that was literally scattered with decomposing revenant parts and half-chewed skeletons. I pictured Promise daintily stepping over one on her way to the bar. She'd done this for her safety. That vampire liked her life to be safe and secure – that I'd known for quite some time. And in order to be safe, you had to have friends in low places as well as in high ones.

Robin gave me the address of the building where I would be able find them, and I clambered out of the car. "Hey," I said, standing next to the open door and staring into the darkened window at Nik's sleeping form. "If something happens to me –" oh, way to go with the cheesy euphemisms, genius. "– then just forget that any of this happened. I mean, forget _everything._ Get out of here. Let Nik wake the hell up, find Promise, and live happily ever after with the traitorous bitch. If I die, I don't ever want him to know."

"Cal," Robin said.

"Thanks, Loman," I said, and slammed the car door. Subject closed.

"I haven't promised anything," he answered briskly, and took off down the street, leaving me alone in the dark.

But, hey, I wasn't alone. I had my guns, and I had my knives.

Together, we went in.

Seven Succubi dropped dead on the stage where they'd been performing some kind of demonic dance. A fast dance, far too fast for your average trained mercenary. My bullets, however, made perfect targets of those slimy, painted faces. Down went the dancers. Heads swung in my direction.

I surveyed the spread of tables, pools of alcohol and vomit, and clusters of savage monsters that stank of both. A low growl swept across the room, and I grinned. "Sorry, folks, my aim was a little off," I apologized, pointing my guns upwards and shooting the overhead lights so that they exploded and plunged half the room into semi-darkness.

Then I leapt up onto a nearby table, covered in blood and stinking of Auphe and loving every minute of the attention, because by now the room was watching me. And someone in this crowd could be the answer to every damn thing I'd gone through tonight. "I'm a friend of Mrs. Nottinger," I announced loudly. "Is she here?" There was low growling. Wolves had slowly begun to prowl around my table. "No? Well, that's alright. I'll just speak to her riddler."

Silence. Well – silence as in nobody answering my request. However, there was a great deal of snarling, table-thumping, and throaty growling going on below me.

"A riddler? No? No one here knows a riddler?" I asked in mock dismay, flipping a blade over my head and letting it plunge through the chest of the Wolf that had slunk up behind me. It went down with an injured cry. "You know, I'm not a very patient guy," I said, stooping to swiftly dislodge my weapon. When I looked up, most of the room was crowded around the table. Hairy, distorted, half-drunk creatures that looked pretty damn hostile – but mostly just annoyed. I'd murdered the entertainment committee after all.

But annoyed wouldn't work. I needed terrified.

So I did it.

It was beyond risky. Hell, it was probably life-threatening. It had only been hours before that I'd last made a gate – if making another one now didn't bring me to near-death, I would definitely be feeling it. But near-death was doable. Without a gate, I might not be so fortunate.

"Ever heard of Tumulus?" I asked, stretching the gate as wide as I could as blood started to drip from my mouth and nose. It was behind me, a roiling hole of piss-colored sky and ice-cold wind and deep black caverns that led to the center of the darkest earth. "Auphe Hell?" I pushed it wider, wider, and it felt like ripping open an already gaping wound. It was so close, right behind me … and my brain was screaming at me to let it go.

The Wolves started shrinking away from me, terrified, their eyes locked behind me as I held open the gateway to hell, and felt the familiar wind whisper at the back of my neck. Nausea coiled in my gut, but I masked that with a smile – a grin of demonic glee complete with bared, blood-coated teeth. "I'll send it after you," I said just loud enough so they could all hear me. "I'll have it swallow you …"

Wolf pissed himself. A succubus at the other end of the room shrieked.

"… if you don't do _exactly_ as I say."

. . .

. . .

**Yes, Cal is officially pissed off.**

**Now, see that blue link down there that says "review this chapter"? :) :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Okay, first off – I'm sorry for the huge delay. My life has become so massively busy and I just haven't had the time to write anything. *sigh* Still, my second semester is proving to be much easier than my first, so hopefully from now on I'll have more time.**

**Secondly, everyone HAS read the exclusive excerpt of "Doubletake", right? As well as the book summary? I'm dying here … I don't know HOW I'll wait for March …**

**Disclaimer: And did I mention these characters are not mine?**

. . . .

. . . .

"You have to try and sleep, Cal."

Hell, I hurt. Body, mind, and soul … if I had one. Body mostly. I didn't need all those damn memories of Grendel hell to make me feel so cold, sick and nauseous, I felt all that anyway. That's how strong they were – hovering in the back of my mind and giggling, waiting for the right moment to jump into the light and steal away my last broken piece of sanity. It felt unnatural, twisted, and wrong.

Something definitely felt wrong.

"You can shut your eyes, I'm right here. Nothing will hurt you."

But I couldn't shut my eyes. Yes, they burned, but if I shut them – then _they _would come. The Grendels.

_The Auphe._

I turned to look over at Niko, crouching next to me on the moth-eaten rug of our motel room. He was still there, he'd waited. Two years? Two days? Where were we? Not New York, not yet. Yet? Holy hell, why did everything feel so wrong?

"Nik …" I murmured, my voice sounding too loud in my ears. "… gone … bastard … I miss you …"

He didn't even seem to hear, just repeated – "Sleep. I'll stay right here. I promise."

_Promise._

Holy shit.

"No."

The door of our motel opened. Only it wasn't our motel anymore, it was our apartment. And Promise was walking in, her brown and gold locks falling past silk-covered shoulders, violet eyes and milky pearls smiling at us both.

Niko stood up, his hand leaving my shoulder as he made his way toward her. The room was fuzzy. And my head _hurt, _damn it. "Nik, wait …"

Promise continued to smile, serene and peaceful and elegant as hell. My head continued to pound, and I vaguely could feel something moist and hot on my face. Niko turned toward me. "You're bleeding, little brother."

Then everything went out – like a light. I was pushing to the surface, reaching, and now there was nothing but voices.

_"Little brother" _now a woman's voice, close to my ear, uncomfortably so. _"Big and strong and ever so brave."_

Nik was gone. I knew that now. Every throb of pain behind my eyes reminded me.

"And I _promise _you … you will know how it feels … to be rejected …"

Niko was dead.

_NO DAMN IT HE ISN'T_

I opened my eyes and saw a broken table leg. And hell, my head still hurt, hammering away at my brain and sending lightning bolts of pain behind my eyes. I shut them, massaged them, then opened them up again. This time I saw the face of a Wolf, sneering down at me with brown dribble on its furry upper lip and my very own frigging gun in his paw-like hand. Well, hot damn. Hot holy shitty frigging damn.

Apparently someone didn't do exactly as I said.

I didn't try to sit up. I already had a headache – I didn't need a bullet messing around up there too. I reached up and wiped my face, and my hand came away red. Well, shit, what do you know, I _was _bleeding. And it was wet, so that meant I hadn't been unconscious for all that long since I made that gate. Half an hour? Possibly more … hopefully not more. Sometimes the bleeding went on a long time after making a gate, and that one little bitch was the one that finally did me in.

I'd had everything under control. Even after I'd released the gate, they were terrified of me, all but groveling at my damn feet, and then I had to go and make the biggest, lamest mistake in the book. I lowered my guard. Before that, it had gone smoothly enough – I'd called one of the Wolves forward who looked reasonably sane and wasn't pissing himself and rattled out my questions. He knew next to nothing except that there had been a bargain between Mrs. Nottinger and the riddler, and when the riddler got her payment, she left. No one knew where she was now, except that she was probably living it up with the money in a penthouse somewhere.

For lack of an interesting story, I gave him a bullet or two and turned to the next guy. The riddler. Mrs. Nottinger. Where the hell they both were. Especially the riddler. Go. And he went. Right towards me, taking a badly-aimed bullet in the shoulder and the slice of a knife somewhere moist and warm … before I was out.

Polite of him to leave me unconscious and not beat me to death with the body of his wounded comrade. It was also nice of him to leave me unharmed.

Right.

I felt like he actually had beaten me over the head with 300 pounds of Wolf, and shit, maybe he had. He'd also dragged me by my foot via jaws into the corner of the bar. The evidence of this was very telling. My right sneaker was tattered and bloody, and, well, I was in the corner of the bar. With a guard. Everyone else was communing at the other end of the bar … as far away from me as possible.

"Hey, Snoopy," I greeted the bastard with my gun. His eyes darkened and he growled rabidly, spraying drool in the air. I just smiled. Look at me: down for the count, no guns, too much blood, and smiling. I was one cool son of a bitch.

"So what exactly are we waiting for?" I continued, rolling my head to the side to relieve the crick in my neck. "Because I gotta tell you, I had much nicer things planned for the day." Very nice things … like kicking vampire ass. Although said vampire ass was probably hauling itself over here that very minute. It was the only possible reason I was still alive and relatively well. Because these Wolves or some of them worked for the Nottinger woman, and she wanted her boyfriend back. And I was supposed to lie here in a pool of alcohol-flavored vomit and wait with my tail between my legs. Well, the Nottinger woman seemed to forget that I also wanted someone back. I _needed _him back, God knows I did.

Still, I felt selfish, damn it. I really did. Was I doing all this for him or for me? It was the question of my life – Cal Leandros' never-ending dilemma. Me or him. Right or wrong. Love or duty. Hadn't Niko previously sacrificed our past just to make me happy? Damn, yes he had – and not just by letting well enough alone, either, but by somehow obtaining poisoned toothpaste for my damn convenience.

But we'd both regretted it. It had been wrong, and yet it had been more right than ever.

Damn. Thoughts like this were spoiling my current badass-ness. I slid into another evil grin and continued to watch the Wolf that held my gun. Slowly, I said, "I can smell your fear," which was just plain untrue, because frankly I couldn't smell shit over the alcohol and vomit I was lying in. I pressed on. "You know I can do it again," I whispered, cocking my head and letting the blood dribble freely down my face. "Open the air, the Auphe way ... maybe even inside of you." It was all complete bullshit, but it was working, and I could _see _his fear even if I couldn't smell it. His wet dog eyes were darting back and forth, his growl sounding more defensive than offensive … and his finger was no longer tense against the trigger. Finally.

I pulled a Niko move on him. My legs moved faster than he could blink, up in the air, kicking the gun straight out of his hand. He lunged at me, too late, as I lunged forward for the gun – and caught it. Twisting backward, I pulled another move – this time entirely and exclusively mine. Boom. Snoopy's sorry ass was grass.

Unfortunately, the commotion got the attention of the asses that had previously been drowning their sorrows in alcohol. Half of them saw that I was loose and tried crawling under the tables. The other half came for me – a snarling wall of Wolves, revenants, and one or two succubi. And I had to go through them to get to the door. Sometimes life just sucked.

My right hand held the gun, my left hand was disgustingly empty, because I couldn't find a knife. I was searching while I was running, but they'd stripped me of all my weapons. I'd just have to borrow one.

I ran right for them. My trigger finger was working methodically through the line of muscular Wolves, taking them out one by one. I was also screaming, a horrific Auphe war cry that sent another five to ten more unmentionables running back in the opposite direction. The first Wolf corpse I passed was holding a knife, and I bent to pick it up just in time to ram it into the stomach of a revenant. I was running, shooting, stabbing, screaming, feeling the cold steel and serrated claw of drunken monsters slide underneath my skin. I couldn't even feel the pain. I kept my eyes on the door. Unfortunately, several of the monsters in the corner were starting to muster up their courage and run into the ensuing confusion. It was noisy as hell, but that didn't mean I couldn't hear when my cell phone rang.

Now that ticked me off. Who the hell would call me while I was _working?_ I listened in aggravation to the tinny ring that cut through the snarling, growling chaos of battle. Knowing that it was probably Goodfellow did not make it any less annoying.

The living wall separating me from the door did not seem any less impenetrable as it did moments ago, even though bodies dropped like rain onto the barroom floor. My knife hand was working magic, but the bullets in my gun were almost out. Just as a revenant lurched toward me in an attempt to chew my face off, my voicemail picked up. Seconds later, I heard Robin's voice.

_"Caliban!" _he was yelling, so I could hear him – but only slightly, over the growling and howling of the Wolves. _"Where in all of unholy – you –"_ Damn, would the world just shut up for one minute? _"I've … a problem …" _Oh no. I could barely hear him, but I sensed it in his tone, and I just knew. He lost Nik. _"… couldn't … skata." _Great. Just great. I was going to _kill _that bastard. Both those bastards, for being so damn difficult! Not that I hadn't lost Nik, the first time, but Robin was supposed to be _better _than Niko. I'll bet he'd been drinking. I'd bet the world that the son of a bitch had been drinking. _"Still … I have a lead … found …"_ he was breaking up.

I threw down my bullet-less gun and reached into my pocket for my phone – which was promptly knocked out of my hand and stamped into mechanical mash against the floor. "SHIT!" I yelled, caught off guard just long enough to get a scraping gash near the neck. Hell. Not that it mattered. I'd reached the door, and I was gone, baby.

Once I cleared the bar and caught my first whiff of cold city air, I started running. I knew they were behind me, but adrenaline combined with years of thrice-accursed early-morning practice made me much faster. Chased by man's worst nightmares and I was smarter, faster, and far scarier. A true abomination, there was no frigging doubt.

Death-tainted air whooshed past me as I careened out of the alley and toward the street – where Promise's limo was just stopping. She stepped out, her hair plaited backward, wearing the kind of kick-ass yet stylish get-up that in another life I would have silently admired her for. I hated her. I hated her so much I disposed of my only weapon – sending it shooting through the air like a bullet toward her face. She ducked neatly. I wasn't really surprised.

More of her cursed bodyguards came swarming out of the limousine and I was cornered. They grabbed me and I didn't resist. The wound near my neck was still rushing blood, and I was starting to feel dizzy. If I'd felt like letting go, I might've fainted.

Promise was there, her soft fingertips like acid against my chin. I jerked away.

"Where is Niko, Caliban?" she asked me, calm and composed. Her violet eyes, darker than usual, assessed my wounds.

I stared back and cracked a smile. "Where is Promise, bitch?"

She failed to react to that. Unfortunate. Instead, she lifted her eyebrows and said, "You are alone. Robin has left you?"

This time I said nothing. And I stopped smiling. Hell, wasn't I spending enough energy just standing still and looking alert? My damn blood was still flowing, and I was so dizzy there were now several Promises, all of them irritatingly serene. She didn't hit me or have me "encouraged" by her Wolves, as I expected. She looked completely at peace, which was as illogical as it was irritating. Finally she parted perfect lips and said, "You lost him, didn't you? He escaped you both."

My fingers twitched. I wanted steel.

"There's been a change of plans, you see," she said, touching my face again. "I came to demand Niko from you. Except, as of a few minutes ago, that is no longer necessary. Niko called me."

Well, damn.

"He found a phone, and called my number," she said with the slight curve of a smile. I knew that she was telling the truth. "You see, some things he hasn't forgotten." Her fingers left my chin, and she backed away slowly, saying simply, "Niko will be waiting for me," words she knew would cut deep. Then she nodded to her Wolves, turned her face away from me, and opened the door to her limousine.

Wolf hands gripped me tighter. "What?" I spat. "You're not going to watch?"

She didn't even look back, sliding into her limousine like she couldn't care less. I saw through it. She didn't _want_ to watch. There was just the right amount of good in her to make her even more detestable.

"I would watch, if I were you," I continued to yell, even as the car door was shut between us. "I might show up again!"

But her fancy-ass limousine was already moving, tires spinning. She was a coward in retreat, unable to stick around long enough to witness what she was doing. Not long enough to see the Wolves cluster around me in anticipation of blood. Not long enough to see the brown-crusted knife that was jammed happily into my abdomen.

I barely felt it, and yet the pain was unbearable. They were smart enough not to let the knife wander too far in. They wanted to take their time with this. But lethal or not, it was just the straw that broke the camel's back, except I wasn't going to let it break me. I glanced down at the hilt, awash with red _"you're bleeding, little brother" _and then instantly my hands were on it. In whatever form or manner, they'd just given me a weapon.

They pushed it in, I pulled it out.

_ENOUGH._

This had been one hell of a night, and I was more than ready for it to end. In less than a few hours the sun would come up – how it would find me I couldn't say. One thing was certain – I would not be getting pins stuck in me by a bunch of giddy, hormonal, blood-thirsty Wolf bodyguards, some of whom had barely passed puberty. I always fought. And when my time came and I finally went down, I would be fighting.

I fought now. I had reached that point where my wounds were immaterial. _Their _wounds, however, were everything, and I cut them deep, deeper, killing in between breaths, laughing when they ran. Dead, gone, did it really matter? Eventually, I was alone. My mind caught up with me with a jolt, and I realized I now had two knives, the sidewalk beneath me was scarlet red, and I thought for a moment that I was going to die.

But that would be anticlimactic, wouldn't it?

After all, this was neither the time nor the place. I knew where Promise's penthouse was, and when that sun finally came up, it was going to find more than one non-human biting the dust, because I sure as hell was not going down alone.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: The end is near! Hold onto your seats.**

**I was up till about 4 in the morning writing this. I definitely need to incorporate some writing-time into my daily schedule – it would be much easier on my nights. Anyway, I hope that you all enjoy!**

. . . .

. . . .

I was dying.

Slowly but surely.

Dying.

At least, that was the constant thought that occupied my tired brain as I walked, monotonously, one foot placed automatically in front of the next, toward a public street. I was currently in a network of unmentionable alleys that belonged only to us, filled with a darkness that even a sheep could recognize, even if the exact source of the darkness was unknown. Did I say "sheep"? I meant human. Maybe I was wrong … maybe only half of me was dying, the sheep side, which of course was weaker.

Did I say "sheep"? I meant human.

Man, I was tired. I was reaching deep down me for a plan, a remnant of a plan … even the definition of a "plan" would've been helpful right now, but I was finding nothing. The bloodlust wasn't even screaming at me anymore, and yet it was the only thing keeping me on my feet right now. It was like how you feel late at night, when you're so exhausted you can't do anything but move mechanically in the direction of bed, because that's the one thing you want in the world.

The gash near my neck had stopped bleeding, but it was hanging open and shimmering fresh red, having lost far too much already. The wound in my stomach hurt, but the blood flow wasn't terrible and I'd managed to stop it some. I'd stripped a hoodie off one of the dead Wolves and cinched it tightly around my abdomen. Sloppy. But crudely effective – it would hold off the inevitable for a while. The rest of my wounds now seemed superficial – the slash in my left arm, the bloody marks across my left hand, the aches and pains in the general neck-down area. Again, sloppy. But who really gave a damn?

A vague realization wriggled in the back of my mind that said _holy shit. Just one night and look at you._ One night without Niko and I was fighting like a damn Auphe, thinking like a retard, and all but falling to pieces physically and mentally. Emotionally, I was fine. For now. But you never know when a complete breakdown is going to hit you, though. They're hiding all over the place, those breakdowns … those … damn …

Two things, I saw at once. First a public phone, then a taxi. I almost lifted my arm to hail the cab, but for some reason I let it drive by. I needed the phone first.

I had to make a call.

Robin picked up on the second ring, his voice a full gamut of tense emotion. Worry, anger, urgency, anticipation. "Who is it?"

"Um," I said, eloquently. I couldn't remember why I called, or if I even had a reason.

"Cal? Thank gods you're alright."

Oh yeah, the reason. I remembered now. It was that I was dying, I was going to go kill somebody and probably myself, and there was apparently enough human in me to want to thank someone for sticking around and, hell, _trying. _Even if it hadn't worked. "Thanks … Loman," I managed, words clumsy, "You've been … one … son-of-a-bitch …" I was slurring, and I think I'd missed the actual compliment that should've occurred right before the "son-of-a-bitch", but he got the idea. It was probably just as well, since this kind of sentimental talk was definitely going to strike me as embarrassing in the near future.

"Caliban, listen, I'm in a penthouse not far from Promise's … did you get my voicemail?" he slowed down a minute, as if my words just sunk in. "You _are _alright, aren't you?"

I was glad my words were sinking in, because his sure weren't. All I heard was Promise's name. In my head, over and over like a mantra. "I'm going to kill her, Robin," I slurred, the phone suddenly becoming heavy in my hand. It sank low, until all I could hear was Robin's urgent words blending together like one of Niko's heavy and puzzling health drinks. I think I said something else, but I couldn't remember. The next thing I knew the phone was back on the hook and I had driven my knife right through the base of the phone and was saying "damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it" over and over again. Niko's fucking health drinks.

I hid my knife, because I knew no cab driver wouldn't stop for me otherwise. It was still a near thing, and I had to wait there as several cabs completely bypassed my bedraggled appearance. It was dark enough so that the blood wasn't too visible, but I didn't need blood to look like a deranged psychopath escaped from the local ward. Finally one stopped, the driver (who didn't look all that reputable himself) eying me for a moment before reluctantly letting me in. I climbed into the backseat and gave him Promise's home address. And the moment the words rolled off my tongue, I felt good. I felt reeeeaaaal good.

. . . .

It wasn't quite so dark when my feet hit the pavement once again, in front of Promise's home. The sun seemed to be gaining on me.

The cab screeched away, but not before I reached into my pocket and gave the driver all the money that was inside it. Not sure why I did, but I'm fairly sure he thought it was a mistake on my part, because he grabbed the cash and took off like the devil was on his tail. I didn't watch him go. I was the devil too, and my knife was once again in my hand. No gun – but I'd take care of that in just a few minutes.

Promise was not expecting me. I knew that because the doorman let me right in, recognizing me, having been told nothing. No "Keep Caliban Leandros out of my penthouse" orders from Mrs. Nottinger. She'd seen me back at the Elysium, barely able to stand up, weak, weak like a human. She'd thought I would die. But she'd forgotten, I was only half-human.

Or maybe that wasn't it at all. Maybe she knew that other half of me so well, she was fully aware that no doorman would stop me.

Either way, I was in.

The elevator slid up, slowly. I stared down at my blood-stained shoes on the familiar rose-patterned rug. I'd stood on this rug hundreds of times, all the way back in the days when it was Nik's job to babysit wealthy chicks like Mrs. Nottinger. And of course, he sometimes needed help (aka 'me'). Did he split the pay with his reluctant assistant? Need I ask that question again? Money or no money, there were two pairs of boots on this rug back then.

But I.

Was not going to think about that.

The elevator doors slid open, and I slid out, leaving blood on the roses. Down the hall, in front of the thick oak-wood door, there were Promise's bodyguards. Not inside, of course … perish the thought. They could protect her well enough from outside.

Bullshit.

Outside, inside, whatever, they were damn terrified of me. I was the one who smelled evil and wrong, the one who was supposed to be six feet under already, but was still marching around on two feet. I had survived this long through the night, and they knew that. It did not make for a very joyous reunion. At least, on their part. Auphe Cal was very pleased to see them, as a matter of fact, the reason very simply being that one of them was carrying a handgun. In moments it was mine and he was on the floor with a few painful presents I'd given him. Not that he hadn't given me some in return, but again, they were superficial. I barely felt a thing.

The remaining Wolves clambered in through the door, alerting her, yelling into the dimly-lit apartment. The lovebirds were still up, apparently. They couldn't have arrived here too far before me, after all.

Promise was pissed – but I could see the fear in her eyes as she appeared in the hallway across the foyer. She had a gun. For one brief fraction of a second she stood in the hallway facing me from across the room, shotgun in hand, regarding me as I regarded her. Brother and sister bonding time. Then we both simultaneously shot and dove out of the way. Her bullet missed; mine didn't. I was aiming for her weapon, and with a distorted clink of metal the gun bounced right out of her hand. And then I bolted across the foyer and leapt for her.

Too many things happened at once. I had Promise on the floor under me, my knife blade wedged underneath her chin. Niko appeared just a few feet away, bellowing with rage, black sweatpants, T-shirt, right arm bandaged but sword at the ready nonetheless – I saw everything but his face. I didn't look at his face. A quick glance told me the Wolves were still there as well, at my back, joined by a few more brothers and sisters that entered the penthouse with black hoods thrust over their faces. They most likely wanted nothing more to do with me, but that wasn't good enough. I aimed my gun over my shoulder, and in a moment the chain that had once dangled Promise's delicate chandelier over the foyer snapped and a tangle of lights and glass shattered between me and Promise's wolves.

The moment it hit, I saw Niko jerk toward me. Gripping the knife, I screamed – _"Closer and she dies!" _I still couldn't look at him.

This was it.

No one was coming near me, and Promise was merciless at my hands. I could do it – tickle a few veins, burst them, burst some more, or just slice them all at once and watch the blood flow sweet and stain those mocking pearls. I could have … except my damn traitorous human side sprang that elusive breakdown on me, at the worst possible moment.

I couldn't kill her. I couldn't kill Promise.

It was just as stark and as plain as the bloodlust had been only moments earlier. When Niko had found me in Nevah's Landing so long ago, I had been more innocent than he'd been since the age of four, and happier than he probably remembered me. But I hadn't known him. It had been total hell for Nik in those few days, trying to deal with me, resigning himself to the fact that I could no longer really be with him – but resign himself he did. He chose my happiness over his own, and if I did any less than that now I wasn't worth shit. I'd previously figured that after I killed Promise and then died myself, it would be over and done with – but that wasn't true. Nik would still be alive, and he would live life in torment after this night. Why?

Because he would've lost Promise.

Yeah, it hurt. But I would deal. That's what brothers did.

Which is why I was proud, not ashamed, to throw away my knife – clean of blood. Promise had taken me away from Niko because she loved him. Well, I was giving up, letting him have this woman, this monster – because I loved him more.

Violet eyes watched, shocked, as my knife skittered away and the gun dripped from my hand. I didn't realize until that moment how very tired I was, and how much I hurt. I barely stopped myself from groaning with the pain when I pushed myself off of her. I almost fell, but managed to stay on my knees, bloody hands pressed against the floor. That was where my false pride ended, and I did honest-to-God feel ashamed. All that talk about never going down without a fight, and here I was, giving myself up. Nothing would've ever made me bare myself to the sword like this … except if that sword was in Niko's hands.

I waited.

Except I shouldn't have had to wait. That katana was too fast for waiting, those ninja reflexes too sharp. I shouldn't have even had time to push myself away. Why the hell wasn't I fucking dead yet?

I raised my head, and finally looked Niko in the face.

And my heart stopped.

_He knew me._

His eyes were back, no longer cold and contemptuous, but real and familiar and … hell … _back. _They blinked, disoriented, as if coming out of a deep sleep, and then he looked at me like he hadn't seen me in a thousand years. It felt like longer.

There was a catch to this, there had to be –

And then suddenly, a voice at my back, "Don't move", and Robin Goodfellow moved next to me, glass crunching under his boots, and scooped my gun up off the floor. I watched numbly as he dragged Promise to her feet, held his sword to her throat and my gun in the direction of the remaining Wolves gathered near the door. _"Get out," _he bellowed, sounding like Hurricane Irene and then some, and you'd better believe they listened.

I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I didn't care.

Every moment that passed Nik was looking more like himself, making me feel more like myself. Realization was dawning in his face, and it hurt to see the horror that reflected in his eyes. His sword hand was shaking, and in a moment he let go completely and let the weapon fall with a silver clang. I might've taken him down in a flying tackle if I'd been able to so much as stand. He moved toward me, ignoring Robin, ignoring Promise, even though I knew he was remembering all that she had done. He fell to his knees in front of me and assessed all my wounds in one second-long visual sweep. "Cal," he said softly, devastated.

The name I thought he'd never say again.

_Then _I tackled him. He didn't move, certainly didn't fly backwards, so I guess it didn't qualify as a "flying tackle", but it was all the tackle I could muster and the spontaneity made my head feel like it wanted to explode, so it still counted. Nik grabbed me at the same moment, crushing me against his chest, pulverizing Auphe Cal into pasty oblivion. He was gentler than he could've been – sparing my wounds further irritation. I sure as hell couldn't have cared less. I buried my face in his shirt and for a moment just let myself stop thinking … because it was alright. Everything was going to be alright.

"Cal," Nik whispered in a low, ragged voice, squeezing a little tighter. His hand came up and rested on the back of my head. He said it again, _"Cal," _this time with an underlying anger. I wasn't going to fool myself into believing he was only pissed at Promise. I'd almost gotten myself killed multiple times tonight, and a moment ago I'd been willing to let him kill me himself – something that up until this moment had seemed so undeniably _right. _And maybe it had been, who knows, maybe it had been completely selfless of me – it didn't matter to Niko. He never wanted me to be selfless; he always had to have all the selflessness to himself, the bastard.

But the fact remained that he _hadn't _killed me, and I still didn't know what was going on. I didn't want to let go, but now that Human Cal was back, he wanted some answers and fast. But it turned out I wasn't going to get "fast" – trying to push gently away from Niko only resulted in subsequent irritation to my wounds. I gave in, for a few moments, before making another attempt to get free. He finally released me.

My answer was standing hunched by the door. The only Wolf that had not left at Robin's bidding, clothed in an over-sized black sweater with a hood that overcast its face. Now sleeve-covered hands reached up and pulled back the hood to reveal a face that definitely did not belong to a Wolf. Shriveled, twisted, with sagging lips and a hooked nose, and eyes like soulless pools of milky blue. Eyes that had forced my brother into this nightmare and then pulled him out again.

The riddler.

Robin was standing with his sword against Promise's throat, wearing a black hoodie of his own that had previously worked to shield his face. Robin in a hoodie. I had to laugh … but later. Right at this particular moment if the puck asked me to lie down on my belly and grovel at his feet, I would, cross my heart hope to die, grovel.

Niko seemed less interested in current events than I was. He was examining the wound near my neck, undoing the hoodie that was tied sloppily around the knife wound, and sliding off my jacket so he could look at the others. A lot of them were just superficial, like I said earlier, but there still were a damn lot of them. His eyes kept sailing back to the slash in my left arm, the wound he'd inflicted himself. I rested my own hand on his bandaged arm, the one I had shot in the woods outside Rafferty's house – to remind him that we were both guilty.

When he had finished the examination he turned his head to the side, toward where Promise was standing, but did not look at her. He was all but quaking with a rage so white, so blinding, it almost hurt to look at him. When he started to stand, I fisted his shirt and hitched a ride up.

"Pay," the riddler spat, breaking the silence with those piercing eyes directed at Goodfellow. Robin, carefully avoiding her gaze, ripped the pearls right off Promise's neck. "Down the hall, in her bedroom," said Robin, jerking his head toward the hallway. "There are many, many more."

The riddler, a cross – as I remembered – between a lion and a woman, shuffled by, her body tripping and jerking with subtle and awkward movements. She snatched the pearls from Robin in pointed teeth and continued down the hall to Promise's bedroom.

Niko watched her leave as well, his knowing eyes tracing that face and those movements. His hand rested on the back of my neck and squeezed. "A riddler," he said in a low voice.

"Yes," Goodfellow confirmed with a minute shudder of suppressed revulsion. His eyes moved to me. "I started to make some calls after we separated. I was in luck. A friend of a friend knew where this riddler lived." And after I'd called and told him in so many words what I was going to do, he'd met me here – bringing the sphinx-of-a-sorts with him. They'd come in with the Wolves, and the riddler had begun her work on Niko. Why was there no lingering scent of puck and sphinx? A few puffs of Robin's infamous cologne took care of that just fine.

He'd saved the day. The sun was beginning to come up, the room was brightening, and I wasn't dead. More importantly – I wasn't alone.

Promise was. The roiling hatred had left me, but that didn't mean I felt for her much. She was trying to look calm and composed, but her eyes were forsaken and her fingertips were trembling with fear. Slowly, Niko's eyes moved from the hall where the riddler had disappeared, and toward Promise – caressing her face with a look that said _kill _and nothing else. But I knew there was more to it than that. In every way, he had been betrayed so much more than I had been. Promise hadn't owed me anything, the little brother, the glitch in her schedule. It had been nothing like what she and Niko had shared.

"My little brother," Niko said, voice guttural and ice-cold.

Promise looked like she wanted to retaliate, a façade of stoniness springing to her face for a moment, before it all melted away again. Eyelids fluttered shut. "Kill me, Niko. Just do it, then."

Niko stepped away from me and curled his fingers over Robins', around the hilt of his sword, and with a silent nod Robin slipped back. Niko grabbed Promise's sensual waves of blond and brown and pulled back her head back so that her neck was bared and her face was to the ceiling. I thought I saw the sparkle of a tear, before fists clenched and she braced herself for the kill.

At that moment the riddler came lumbering back out of the hallway, literally covered in pearls. Her pockets and hood bulged with them, they decorated her hands and her neck in endless rows. I was not the only one who noticed her – Niko's narrowed eyes flicked back and forth from Promise to the sphinx.

Promise stared out the corner of her eye, and her lips parted. "No –"

"You," Niko barked at the riddler, jerking his head toward Promise. "You have one more job."

The riddler spat a glob of saliva at the floor in disdain, but turned to Promise nonetheless.

Niko tilted Promise's face toward the sphinx, the curve of a wicked smile touching his mouth as her body stiffened. "Erase these past four years," he told the riddler. "Before her husband's death. We'll let her wonder where he is."

"Don't do this, Niko," she whispered, voice filled with dread. "Cal, I beg you –"

"Don't you speak his name," Nik growled.

The riddler was already working – and it didn't take long. Promise's purple eyes glazed over, seemed to break out of a reverie, and then slid around the room in a murky haze, passing me by like the stranger I suddenly was. The reaction she gave Niko was provoked merely by the sword he held to her neck. She looked confused, while still regally indignant – and it made me sad to watch her this way, almost as if she were back again, the Promise I thought I'd known. "Who –?" she said indignantly. "Let me go –" At that moment Niko's quick fingers climbed up the back of her neck, pressed a few nerves, and she slumped unconscious onto the floor in a swish of faded silk.

Like she'd died, only worse somehow.

I shouldn't have felt anything at all for her, except I did – a little. And that was a lot, after what she'd done to me. I'd gone from feeling nothing at all to feeling way too much. It was all such a pain in the ass. Now … I just wanted to sleep. Call me a selfish bastard, but watching Promise keel over almost made me envious.

Niko stared down at her for a moment, and then looked up at Robin and me, conveying both relief and at the same time, all the weight in the world.

"Take me back." It was that annoying riddler again, her angry eyes boring into Goodfellow. "Our agreement. Take me back _now."_ And she shuffled clumsily out the door.

"Alright, alright," Robin sighed like a martyr, taking his sword back from Niko. "I'll leave you two alone now. Hopefully I'll get the chance to catch at least an hour's sleep before noon, _gamo _that sun. Some of us have work to attend to tomorrow. And I will not be alone, either," he said, eying me. "It will give me great pleasure, Caliban, to see you scrubbing my Ferraris for an indefinite period of months. Possibly years. However long it takes you to repay me for every single possession of mine that was so irreverently destroyed tonight."

Well, I sure as hell wasn't hauling my ass out of bed before noon, but I could definitely see some Ferrari-scrubbing in my near future, and I didn't intend to complain – as painful as it sounded. I was too damn grateful. I almost delivered a replay of the mawkishly sentimental speech I'd given him earlier over the telephone, but he saw it coming and made his way immediately for the door, clapping my shoulder on the way out.

I watched the door hang open behind him, revealing a patch of wallpaper in the hallway, a patch of rug, and dead bodies. I didn't realize I was swaying until Niko's hand steadied me. I looked over at him, to see if all that weight had lifted off his features. It hadn't, not all of it, but we were getting there. Like everything in our life, it would be a process. "Nik," I croaked. "I missed you so much." It was the first thing I'd said to him since he came back, the first thing I'd said at all, I realized, and I could see a little of the tension go out of him.

"You," he said, grabbing my head and shoving it against his shoulder as he hugged me, hard. "Are a mess, little brother."

He released me, but kept a hand braced on my arm in case fatigue got the better of me. I looked down at myself and winced, then replied hopefully, "I think a bed will take care of that nicely."

"Eventually, yes," said Niko. "We have quite a bit of stitching to do before then."

And by 'stitching', I knew he didn't just mean stitching. Niko wanted to talk. Well, I was too tired to wait.

"I couldn't do it, Nik," I said, getting that out of the way once and for all. "I couldn't kill her. Not after everything…" I stopped, uncertain as to whether that was the right thing to say. Not that it mattered, because he knew where I was going. And didn't much care.

"You were going to let me kill you," he said, giving my shoulder a firm shake. The devastation was toned-down, but it was still there, giving gravity to his every word. "I was going to kill you, Cal."

I didn't have an answer to that. Well, that's not exactly true, I had several – but saying that it was hardly my fault and that he would've done it anyway even if I _had _killed Promise wasn't going to make things any better, so I just kept my mouth shut. I was only too happy to let him grill me. Only it seemed he wasn't grilling me after all, because his eyes fell to the floor, then met mine again as he said, "I am so sorry," with even more gravity than before. My brother is a very gravitational person, I know. And the pain behind his words was starting to make me hate Promise again. I didn't know why _Niko _was apologizing – he hadn't done a damn thing wrong. But then, Niko had never done anything wrong in his life, and yet he always carried the guilt.

Well, I was tired of it. He had enough on his plate without personally claiming the blame for everything that ever happened to us. "Don't you dare, you selfish bastard. You're not getting any of the guilt on this one, not if I have anything to say about it," I said with all the sternness I could muster. "Now go get your sword. We're leaving."

He leveled a look at me that was half-amused and half-_not_, so I ended up turning tail and retrieving his sword myself. I looked briefly at Promise as I passed her, only half her face visible under a tide of hair. She was the old Promise, the one we'd met years ago, and leaving her this way had to make it even worse for Niko. Part of me wondered if he'd handled it this way because he'd wanted to punish himself as well as punish Promise. Because if that were the case, I would gladly kill her now, if only to ease some of that weight. Only Nik seemed to be holding up okay – for now. So Promise would live – for now. I had no qualms about killing … since when have I had qualms about drawing blood?

I was just taking care of my brother. He deserved to be taken care of more than I did, and he sure as hell was going to get it, whether he liked it or not.

He accepted his sword from me, then placed a supportive hand against my back as we made our way around the sea of broken glass and toward the door that was hanging open, streaming sunlight from the hallway windows.

Neither of us looked back.

_The End_


End file.
